


My 'little' champion

by justanoodle



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Transgender Fundy, and i estimate it's been almost 2 years in l'manburg canon, and some philza stuff, because lets face it, but somehow he's a young adult, but that's only 11.5 fox years, father son, fundy can age-shift, fundy was born in l'manburg, he's just not doing the best job, he's trying, i looked up fox years compared to human years, mentions of the other occupants of l'manburg, okay?, relationships can be hard, some swearing I guess, some tommy stuff, that's a bit strange, this fic is inspired by a tumblr post, trans male, where he basically just changes ages based on emotion, which is why this is a thing now, wilbur just wants to be a good dad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-16
Updated: 2021-01-16
Packaged: 2021-03-13 19:07:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28783170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justanoodle/pseuds/justanoodle
Summary: Sally the shape-shifting salmon is cursed after she steals from a fox deity. The only problem is, the curse doesn't show itself until later.OrFundy struggles with his identity of being someone who constantly shifts between ages thanks to a curse he inherited from his mother. Wilbur doesn't know how to be a good dad to a son who unpredictably goes between ages 5 and 23.(Based on a tumblr post: https://strawberiitea.tumblr.com/post/640405419431493632/so-yknow-how-fundy-being-wilburs-son-and-being)
Comments: 12
Kudos: 162





	My 'little' champion

**Author's Note:**

  * For [strobebby](https://archiveofourown.org/users/strobebby/gifts).



> I wrote this in like two hours because @strawberiitea on tumblr had a headcanon and I was like 'wow this makes a lot of sense'. Then people were like 'I need a fic of that. I can't write. Somebody do it blah blah blah'. And because my hubris cannot be tamed, I said 'YEAH I CAN DO IT BY TONIGHT'. So here I am, about 4 hours later, with a full one-shot of this because I said why the fuck not and my hubris got the best of me. (Sorry if it's a bit messily written).
> 
> I hope y'all enjoy. I had a lot of fun writing this :))))
> 
> Based off this post and all the reblogs/comments that followed: https://strawberiitea.tumblr.com/post/640405419431493632/so-yknow-how-fundy-being-wilburs-son-and-being

When Sally was younger, she had angered a fox deity by stealing their sacred emerald ring. It wasn’t on purpose. She didn’t _know_ it was a deity’s sacred ring. She was just a typical pirate looking for treasure in hopes it would be enough to keep herself alive. The fox deity had cursed her, but Sally never knew what the curse was because her life had never altered.

Fortunately yet unfortunately, that curse would present itself later on.

After Sally met Wilbur and they fell in love, they had a son. That son ‘grew up’ with the ability to age-shift, constantly going from 5 years old to––at the very most, so far––23 years old when his emotions got the best of him.

Fundy is that son.

Fundy has always been an oddity. Not just because he was the first to be born in L’Manburg, or because he’s a furry, or because his mother was a shape-shifting salmon pirate.

No, he’s an oddity due to that stupid curse he inherited.

 _God_ he hated the curse.

Hated that he never had a _real_ age. Hated that when he felt he was being talked down to, his age would respond and regress him into a child. Hated that when he was handed lots of work, his age responded by turning him into an adult. And when he tried to tell people that he didn’t know how to handle these responsibilities, they’d respond with ‘You’re old enough to do this on your own’ as if the words ‘old enough’ had any meaning to him.

By far the worst part was when he was feeling vulnerable.

When he shared touching moments with people. Or his dad, Wilbur, told him stories about Sally. Especially when wars kept plaguing the land and all he ever seemed to feel was pain–– physical and emotional.

(How did that saying go? ‘Young and stupid’? 

Yeah, Fundy had a hatred for his parents for being ‘young and stupid’. There was an ever-simmering pool of resentment towards his father for loving his mother. Why did he have to accept her and her curse in its entirety? He’s heard the story. Sally was scared of being loved with an unknown curse and she’d denied Wilbur’s affection. But he had been young and stupid and _charming_ as usual. Why did he _have_ to–)

These vulnerable moments were when his body decided to be young again. Like the curse wanted him to be traumatized further. Wanted the scars to rip away at his childish mentality.

So, the furry began to clench his jaw, push away strong feelings, and fool not just others, but also himself, into thinking everything was okay.

He learned to latch onto constant things. Safe things. Tommy was one of those constant, ~~safe~~ things. The blond was barely 15 when the nation was first founded and he was first born. He was technically his uncle, but Tommy felt more like a friend. They were both part of this ever-warring world and even though the blond had Tubbo to stick with, he still felt closer to him than his own father sometimes.

Fundy’s age decided that Tommy was ~~_safe, safe, safe_~~ _._ He had to agree, Tommy was _damaged, damaged, damaged_ just like him. Tommy had issues with Wilbur but was also raised by Wilbur _same, same, same_ just like him. Besides, Tubbo was a friendly face, and he was welcomed into their little duo quite easily.

He could stick with it. He could be 15.

\------

Wilbur had his own reaction to this.

It was frustrating as a father, not being able to do anything to help your child. It was even more frustrating that he couldn’t be a proper father to a child that constantly goes between being 11 years old and _the same age as you_.

He tried to deal with it the best he could and give Fundy the love he needed, but it was hard. It was so, so hard.

Fundy was his little boy–– his little champion!

But could he really be his little champion if he never grew up? He didn’t have a proper childhood, especially with the war, and he couldn’t control the age he wanted to be.

Wilbur wanted his little champion. He wanted to treat his little boy like a normal father would. He wanted to read him bedtime stories, teach him how to map the stars, and sing him lullabies. However, when his son is only a child a quarter of the time and would be embarrassed about these things the rest of the time, it just couldn’t happen.

It didn’t help that L’Manburg–– _stupid fucking L’Manburg_ ––tore him away from quality time with his son. He had a goddamn country to build and lead. Hell, there was a _war_ waging. One that would either make or break their lives in this land. He couldn’t just ignore that.

He couldn’t ignore his son, either. Wilbur was determined to not end up like Philza with Tommy. He was determined not to leave somebody else to raise his son.

One thing he’d discovered that’d de-aged Fundy back into being his little boy were stories about Sally. Though his heart ached to talk about his late love, it was something to make him feel like he was giving his son a proper childhood.

Little did he know, this only made Fundy more and more frustrated with his identity.

He remembered when he first learned what the curse did.

_“Alright, I’m a father now. I have a daughter. A child. A literal child. I can do this.” Wilbur whispered under his breath, pacing back and forth outside his tent, where his little girl lay sleeping. “I practically raised Tommy in all his annoyingness and loudness, I can raise my own child. Right?”_

_Wilbur took a deep breath and opened the tent flap._

_“Hey Flora–”_

_A little boy, about 10 years old, sat in his tent, ears twitching and nose in a book. His legs kicked back and forth, too short to reach the ground from the stool on which he sat. He looked up with stars in his eyes and smiled. “Hello, father!”_

_Wilbur gaped. “Wh–– Where’s my daughter?”_

_“I’m your son, actually.”_

_“What the fu–”_

That’s the day Wilbur learned that Fundy not only can age-shift, but also is transgender.

\------

Wilbur sat on the floor of the camarvan, maps and scraps of paper with haphazard words scrawled on them decorated the floor. It was late at night––eleven pm, probably––and the only light was coming from his lantern.

He was taking the night shift, as per usual, when a sharp _rap_ at the door snapped him from his thoughts.

“Enter.” He mumbled, eyes still on one of the maps.

Fundy cautiously shuffled in, wary of the papers all over the floor. He held up his suit. “Hey, Wil. I, uh– I’m gonna need a new suit.”

Wilbur’s eyes never left the map as he hummed. “Mm. What for? Is it the colours? You’re just a boy, Fundy, I thought they’d–”

“Yeah, about that.” The furry gulped and interrupted.

“About wha–” Soot’s eyes glanced up, a soft flame danced in the pupils. “Oh.”

Fundy shifted his weight from foot-to-foot, suddenly feeling uncomfortable. “Y-yeah.”

“H-how, uh,” The leader took a deep breath and it echoed around the quiet room, “ _old_ are you.”

Fundy didn’t reply, but he opened and closed his mouth like he wanted to. His jaw clenched and his gaze hardened.

“Fundy?” Wilbur pressed gently, putting the paper he was holding down.

Through the gritted teeth, the fox spoke. “Well, right now? Probably twenty-four.”

“But–– How––” The brunette looked distraught as he leapt to his feet. The lack of sleep and prominent bags under his eyes had contributed to the sadness etched onto his features. Fundy had never reached _24_ before. _How?_ “You’re my _boy._ My– my little champion!”

“I’m still your son, Wil.” Fundy spoke firmly. His fists grasped the torn fabric of his uniform tighter to the point where his knuckles strained.

“But you– you’re _literally_ my age.” Wilbur protested, hands flying in the air.

“You know I can’t control this.” He practically hissed out, refusing to unclench his jaw while his suppressed emotions ran rampant. When Wilbur didn’t look satiated at all, he repeated. “I can’t contr–”

“But you’re older than me.”

“I know, I know.”

“You’re older than Tommy! He’s your uncle.” 

“I–”

“ _Where’s my little boy!?_ ” Wilbur wailed, tears pricking his eyes. He wanted his boy back! Where was his little champion? His little furry trans son. He was gone. He was– He–

“ _Wilbur_.” Fundy snarled, lips curling.

The brunette’s mouth snapped shut and his eyes went wide. Fundy never growled at him. _Ever._

“Fundy–”

“No. Stop it. Do you know how _hard_ it is to never age properly? To go between ages constantly because your emotions just decide it’s a good time to not be what you want to be. I am handed responsibility left and right, expecting to just be able to be an adult in those situations.” Fundy roared angrily, hot tears of frustration and shame dripping down his face. 

Wilbur took a stunned step back, stumbling into a brewing stand and sending it crashing to the ground. It shattered, glass flying all over the paper-laden floor.

“And you coddle me like a fucking child all the time! So which is it? You want me to be your little champion? Or do you want me to be a soldier? Because I’m _tired_ of constantly being expected to fight like an adult but be treated like a little kid! I don’t belong in any group I’m put with.” Fundy cried, voice wavering harshly. He was beginning to regress again, body shrinking to reflect his emotional state.

“You know what? Maybe I _do_ blame you and mom for this. You barely spend time with me, always on about ‘L’Manburg this’ and ‘L’Manburg that’. It’s like L’Manburg is more of your child than I am.” He hiccoughed through the tears and sobs as they wracked his ever-shrinking frame.

“I wish you never met mom. I wish you never let her love you!”

With that, Fundy whirled around and out the door, slamming it behind him as he went.

Wilbur watched dumbfounded as his ~~little champion~~ son stormed across the field and towards the camp where the rest of the tents sat in a circle.

He couldn’t help but fall back onto the ground, numb to the shards of glass that embedded themselves into his back. Blood dripped from Soot’s back and neck, but he didn’t notice.

The horrible realization that he was turning into a Philza to his son’s Tommy hit him right through the heart. His gut twisted maliciously with guilt until that was all he could feel, taking hold of his emotions like oozing black tendrils of tar.

Tears streaked down his exhausted face and the single thought in Wilbur’s head that night was _How am I supposed to fix this?_

\------

Days passed and the rift between father and son were noticeable to every member of L’Manburg. There had been fights between them before, but nothing as severe as this. However everybody collectively agreed that absolutely nobody would comment on it. Tommy and Tubbo still laughed and joked with Fundy as they went out hunting. Nikki and Eret still aided Wilbur with his battle plans.

It was tense, but it was relatively normal.

Wilbur’s heart ached every time his son’s eyes hurried away from his. Tears welled in his eyes whenever his little boy’s shoulders stiffened as he walked by.

He suffered knowing the reason Fundy was a child now was not because of a fun story or a song, but because of a fight. A fight that left deep wounds of sorrow and guilt in both their consciences.

Fundy obviously wasn’t going to come and fix this himself, nor did Wilbur expect him to. Right now and until the end of time, Wilbur was the adult. Therefore, it was his duty to grow up and fix their relationship himself.

One morning, around four days after their fight, Wilbur stood outside Fundy’s tent, anxiously biting his lip. An old wood box was nestled safely in his arms.

“Fundy?” He called softly, knowing the boy would be awake. “Can I come in?”

“No.”

Wilbur sighed, seeing through the crack in the flaps that Fundy was sitting up on his bed, knees tucked under his chin. He took a deep, grounding breath before his anxiety could make him chicken out. “I’m coming in anyways.”

“Hey–”

The man walked in, softly sitting on the other side of the bed to leave space between them. _A rift_. 

“I didn’t say you could come in.” Fundy spoke bitterly, ears twitching back against his head.

“I know. I’m sorry.” Wilbur placed the box between them. “I came to say I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Fundy, for not spending enough time with you. I’m sorry for prioritizing L’Manburg over your own happiness. I was so set on not becoming Phil and on keeping my people safe that I–”

“Wait.”

Soot’s gaze drifted up to his son, who looked confused. “What?”

“‘Not becoming Phil’. What does that mean?”

The brunette shook his head with a soft, pained laugh. He remembered all the times Tommy looked at Phil with love and wonder and hope in his eyes. But he would only be disappointed when Phil left for weeks on end with Techno to fight people, or to focus on his own world. He remembered Tommy’s disappointed look when he realized Phil wouldn't be responding to his messages or be coming to teach him how to do something he wanted to learn about.

Wilbur remembered the days he spent raising Tommy on his own, sometimes with the help of Nikki. How he taught Tommy how to map the stars to get home, how to hunt for food, how to grow his own vegetable garden. He used to feel more like a father than a big brother.

Nevertheless, Tommy was so young and naive, always thinking of Phil as a father and not just someone who gave him a safe place to stay.

Wilbur fought back tears. “Don’t worry about it. As I was–– As I was saying… I’m sorry I’ve been a shit dad to you. I didn’t–– I _don’t_ know how to treat you most of the time because of your age-shifting-thing. And I’m sorry I–”

“Dad, it’s fine.” Fundy interrupted tiredly, a small smile on his lips. He buried his face deeper into his arms. “I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t have said those things. You don’t get to choose who you love.”

Wilbur leaned over the box and hugged his son. He whispered softly. “I love you, my little champion.”

Fundy barked a sharp laugh. “I love you too, dad.”

Wilbur carefully traced the clasp of the box between them and clicked them open, lifting up the top. He took out aegean-coloured scrapbook with dried seaweed and glued-on shells decorating the cover. There was a singular polaroid photo on the front of Sally sitting––laughter lighting up her freckled, sun-kissed face––on the beach, presumably in the process of making this scrapbook.

“Now, did I ever show you this old thing?”

“No.” Fundy shook his head, grinning.

“No? Well, I’ll tell you the story behind it first.” Wilbur’s lips tugged into a broad smile. “Last year, your mother and I were sailing….”

They spent the rest of the day laughing over stories and photos in Fundy’s tent, content to ignore work in order to spend some well-deserved bonding time together.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! And a huge thanks to everyone who contributed to the original post! This was my first time writing something for the dream smp/mcyt fandoms so it was definitely a new experience :D
> 
> Check out my Tumblr @recycledcactus


End file.
